


No Such Thing as a Free Ride

by Ponderosa



Category: American Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Gotham (TV) RPF
Genre: Bisexual Male Character, Breathplay, Explicit Consent, Kink Exploration, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Nipple Play, Older Man/Younger Man, Open Marriage, Polyamory, Rimming, Sugar Daddy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-06 11:48:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3133334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ponderosa/pseuds/Ponderosa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dinners together turn into shopping trips in the middle of the day between shoots. They wander into small boutiques where Sean occasionally buys things for his wife, but more often than not tells Ben to try something on: rings, a watch, a scarf that costs twice as much as his first car.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Such Thing as a Free Ride

The first time Sean says, “I’ll get this one,” after a meal, Ben says thanks and offers up a smile. Then it happens a second time, and a third, and on the fourth time, Ben is telling the waiter that no, really, he’ll take the bill, but Sean steamrolls right over him, the heavy gold bracelet on his wrist reflecting the light from the candles on the table.

“You’ve really got to let me pay one of these times,” Ben says afterwards, when they’re out on the curb, breath steaming in the air and faces stinging from the cold.

Sean just laughs and invites him over for a home-cooked meal instead.

Dinners together turn into shopping trips in the middle of the day between shoots. They wander into small boutiques where Sean occasionally buys things for his wife, but more often than not tells Ben to try something on: rings, a watch, a scarf that costs twice as much as his first car. Ben doesn’t let Sean buy any of it though--for one, it’s not like he can’t afford it himself, but more than that he knows he’s never going to wear this stuff. A couple hundred bucks for a t-shirt seemed frivolous until he got used to it, but this kind of flash--Ben’s a lot more comfortable with fame than fortune, and that’s not saying much. Sean though, grew up in the life: a home in London and a house in Ibiza and all that entails.

“What are you, my sugar daddy?” he jokes, when at Sean’s urging, he’s handling a pair of shoes that are, like everything else in the shop, entirely custom made.

“Not when the only thing you let me buy you is a bite to eat,” Sean tells him, and there’s something covetous in his eyes when he nods at the display. “See anything you like?”

“I kind of like what I’m wearing,” Ben says. He sets the shoes down, but he’s more conscious than ever at the way Sean looks at him as he does.

“They’re a far sight nicer than a pair of fancy trainers.”

It might be a pair of boots Sean’s sporting today, but Ben knows he’s got a _’pair of fancy trainers’_ lined up near the door of the apartment he’s keeping. He shakes his head and slides open a drawer full of ties. “Do as I say, not as I do?”

“That’s it, mate,” Sean smiles and claps him on the back, then wanders off to make chit-chat with the well-dressed young man that’s been politely ghosting them and waiting to assist.

A few days later there’s a parcel in his trailer, and Ben instantly recognizes the scarf as something he’d spent more than a passing moment rubbing between his fingers. He doesn’t take it out of the box. He doesn’t intend to wear it. But a few days later they have a scene together, and while they’re standing around trying to keep warm, Sean leans in and says, “Come to my place tomorrow evening. I’m having lamb,” in a rough whisper, and all Ben can think about it how Sean will look at him if he’s shows up in that scarf.

*

Ben’s not really an impulsive guy; he saves his money, drives a nice car but nothing that costs near six figures, and he doesn’t do much of anything that’d land him on gossip sites. While he’s worked with personalities on all ranges of the spectrum, Sean is a certain type of celebrity. He strives to impress, though he’s not an asshole about it, otherwise Ben wouldn’t be standing in front of the mirror with the fucking scarf around his neck wondering if _he’s_ the lamb.

On the way to Sean’s place, Ben is fidgety, feeling too-warm in the back seat as the driver keeps the heat blasting out of the dash. He doesn’t ask the guy to turn it down; he’s too busy scraping his palms over his knees and peering through the foggy window and thinking about the last thing Sean’s wife had said to him when she was visiting with the family.

 _Watch it, handsome, sounds like he’s looking for a boytoy,_ she’d said, when Ben had told her about Sean always picking up the bill. He’d taken it as a joke at the time, but since then, Ben has grown less and less sure. Maybe she’s into it. Theirs wouldn’t be the first open marriage he’s seen since joining the business--hell, Jada’s a prime example of making it work.

Ben turns around all the sly looks and vague innuendo catalogued in his head during the ride to Sean’s place, half of him convinced that he’s making too much out of it while the rest is busy thinking that maybe he should’ve brought along a nicer bottle of wine. When he’s buzzed in through the door and taking the stairs two at a time, his hand goes unconsciously to the scarf wrapped around his throat. It does look good on him. And it’s amazingly soft. Showing gratitude for a gift doesn’t automatically equal, _I’ve thought about fucking you more than once this week._

He’s chewing on the inside of his cheek when Sean comes to the door, an iPad in his hand and Jackie’s face filling the screen. “Say hello,” Sean says, pulling Ben inside and swinging around so that they’re both on camera.

Ben offers a smile and manages a word or two while Sean slings an arm around over his shoulder and tugs at the scarf. “Told you he’d wear it,” Sean tells Jackie. “Tell him it suits him.”

“It does, honestly,” Jackie says, and in Ben’s head he hears the word _boytoy_. “Have a fun night, you two. I expect to hear _all_ about it later. Ben, love, watch out, he bites.”

A stammered goodbye from him, a kiss in the air from Sean, and then she’s waving and signing off, and Ben is pretty damn sure he’s as red as the scarf from the rush of blood to his face.

“Let me have a look at you,” Sean says, dropping the tablet off onto the corner of the bar counter before Ben can even slip out of his coat. He shrugs out of it while Sean’s watching, but he keeps on the hoodie and the scarf, because like hell he’s going to turn this into a strip tease two steps inside the door. “Hungry as I am?”

“Nervous,” Ben admits. He doesn’t want to skirt the issue, but he also isn’t quite sure he wants to bring it up immediately. Having a drink first sounds like it might ease the way, but it’s also likely to get him caught in the trap of keeping the tough conversation in his head. He gestures between them, and says, “Are we, uh-- Do we have a thing? Shit. What I’m asking is if there’s, you know, more than just a bite to eat on the menu here, ‘cause I kind of feel like there is.”

“Just because I buy you a scarf doesn’t mean you have to put out.”

“Of course not. I just--”

“Though, if you fancy a good fuck, I’ve got a few more things laying ‘round your size that I’d love to strip you out of.”

Ben’s eyebrows shoot up and he ducks his head, avoiding the way Sean’s gaze sweeps over him head to toe. It’s more intense than he’d imagined it would be, and his mouth goes dry, his fingers tingling. “Well that answers the question. Let’s start with dinner and go from there,” he says, clearing his throat and slipping out of the scarf now. He runs it through his hands, hanging it neatly beside his coat like an unspoken promise: _Later, I’ll put it on again._

More wine than food gets consumed and the conversation is mercifully easy and casual, no different than the usual after a few false starts, all the nervousness fading away in the face of a good meal and Sean’s typical gift for storytelling. Sean certainly knows his way around a kitchen, and the wine Ben had brought paired remarkably well. They’ve got a second bottle open by the time they end up on the couch trading more bullshit and swapping airplane horror stories. When Sean slides close to snap a selfie of the two of them, he doesn’t move away after he’s typed in a caption, and his leg pressing warm against Ben’s hurtles Ben right back into hyper-awareness.

“So,” Ben says, rocking forward, anticipation marching like ants through his veins. He glances sideways at Sean, who leans back and stretches his arms out like he’s just waiting for Ben to crawl into his lap. “Do you really want to dress me up just to get me naked?”

“Tonight, I’ll settle on just getting you naked,” Sean says. His smile is a wicked slant. “But tomorrow, you should let me buy you a little something.”

“Like what?” Ben’s gaze skips over to the scarf, the thin drape a scream of crimson next to the coal black of his coat.

“Let’s leave it a surprise, yeah?” Sean’s hand settles against Ben’s back, a not-so-subtle nudge that gently urges him to go fetch the scarf and put it on. To show off.

Saying _fuck it, why not,_ in his head, Ben stands up and peels off his hoodie, hanging it in place of the scarf which he twists around in his hands. “I hear you bite,” he says, “I’m not sure I’m really into that.”

Getting to his feet, Sean says, "I look forward to finding out what you are into," and prowls in close, his hands settling light just above Ben's elbows. Heartbeat kicked into high gear, Ben's relieved that his hands are occupied--no need to figure out exactly what sort of move he should be making. Though Sean seems to be fine running the show. It’s no different really than when they're out together or in a group; Sean is always the one to give recommendations or request them, to sort everyone out and make certain that a good time is had by all. "Let's start with this," Sean tells him. Fingers drift light up Ben's arms and over his shoulders until Sean's tipping his face up and moving in for a kiss.

It isn’t a soft kiss, no slow start, no fumbling to find which angle or how to fit together. Sean pushes and Ben goes, wondering all the while how it is they’ve gotten to this point, the wild thrill of it a distinct frantic pitch inside his head as he takes the cues he’s given. His mouth is open under Sean’s, and Sean’s not shy about tongue, or turning a deep kiss into a hard, sucking one, until Sean’s pulling away and taking Ben’s lip with him. The pressure nearly feels like a scrape of teeth before it’s gone, Sean’s tongue swiping like a balm over the sting, and as Ben rolls his tongue over his own lip, he thinks about how he has never, ever, been kissed like that before.

“Fuck,” he says, sure that he looks as dazed as he feels.

Sean muscles in closer, until the tile of the bar counter is a chill line pressing low across Ben’s back. His hands curl under the hem of Ben’s shirt, knuckles grazing skin, that light touch enough to send Ben’s insides twisting on a thrill. Ben has to move, to do something other than just fall apart in front of Sean, so he takes over, scarf held in his mouth to tug his shirt off over his head and fling it aside. He slings the scarf back over his neck like a towel, gripping the tails out of vanity, knowing it makes his biceps pop and yeah, Sean is very, very appreciative of that.

“Stay there,” Sean tells him, getting handsy now with touches that are casual but possessive, exploring along Ben’s sides like he’s something on display. The covetous look that accompanies each sweep of Sean’s fingers stirs something in Ben, an uneasy rebellion that makes him do the opposite of staying put; shaking free of the scarf, he clasps his hands to Sean’s face, drags him in for another kiss that’s more Sean tongue fucking his mouth than anything.

Belt jingling as he loosens it, Ben opens his fly, and that’s as far as he gets as Sean grinds up tight against him, solid body pressed along his from knee to chest. Sean’s arms bracket him in, his mouth still sucking at Ben’s, the bulge of his cock impossible to miss. When Ben goes up on his toes, Sean pulls away, deftly finishing what Ben had started and dragging his pants down to his thighs. His underwear gets tugged down along with the denim, waistband riding low enough that the very base of his cock is bared.

“Let’s unwrap this, shall we,” Sean murmurs, mouth crooked to the side as he traces the outline of Ben’s rapidly stiffening cock with a fingertip. His gaze though stays mostly on Ben’s face. “You know, this is my favorite part,” he confides, voice dropping to a lower register, heavy and secretive. He pauses for a breath, another quick sucking kiss that catches Ben’s lip, and his eyes are heavy-lidded and pleasure dark as he says, “The part when every touch is brand new, and I haven’t yet seen the look it puts on your face. You’re so deeply expressive, Ben.”

And then Sean’s glancing down as he frees Ben’s cock, so hard now it’s an almost comical spring when he’s fully exposed, head shining and dark. “Pretty as the rest of you, and standing up nice and straight like a good little soldier,” Sean remarks. He pushes it even higher with a thumb, holds the heat of it against the line of hair below Ben’s navel, and his thumb rubs over the crown to the gleam of moisture beaded at the slit. Ben’s hands are clutched to Sean’s sides, his attempt to return the favor and reach for Sean earning him a cluck of the tongue and a, “Not yet, let me focus on you for a bit.” Another slow measuring touch coupled with a bit of praise rumbling out of Sean’s mouth makes him squirm inside, the sensation building until he’s screwing his eyes shut and breathing hard.

That boiling rebellion under his skin has him about to say fuck it and get a handful anyway when Sean abruptly kicks his legs apart. Ben staggers, an elbow landing on the counter to keep his legs from folding out from under him as a second kick widens them further, opening more skin for Sean to explore with more light, fondling strokes of finger and palm. It’s a sizzle of heat straight to Ben’s core when Sean cups his balls and lifts them, the pressure there and at his taint enough to make him wish Sean would move his hand a little further beyond.

But Sean doesn’t nudge any further towards the hot clench of Ben’s ass and keeps toying with his balls, making the anticipation worse by telling Ben how much he likes it, how soft Ben feels, and how in a moment he’s going to make good use of that gift Ben was kind enough to wear tonight. Ben has no idea what to expect by that, as most of his world has narrowed down to Sean’s hand petting along his dick and inner thighs and always coming back to tug at where his balls try to stay snug up against his body. By the time he’s worked up enough spit to ask, Sean’s pinched fingers slide down the length of red draped along Ben’s chest.

“Is this good?” Sean asks, thumb rubbing the cashmere against Ben’s skin, sliding it up until the friction is on his nipple.

Kind of him to ask, but Ben isn’t entirely sure. He feels entirely off-center, his whole world tipping sideways. Most of his partners have preferred him to take the lead, and even the ones that were more forward or liked to break out the fuzzy cuffs have never paid more than a cursory attention to his nipples. With another guy it’s usually all about dick or getting his knees up to get fucked. He gives Sean’s side a squeeze and says, “It ain’t bad.”

When Sean works Ben’s nipple into a tight point with his thumb, then flattens the scarf beneath his palm to rub wide circles over his chest, Ben starts to think it’s maybe a little good. He still doesn’t know what to do with himself when Sean is so focused on _him_ , so he shifts here and there, hands finally wandering under Sean’s shirt to grip at bare skin. The warmth of Sean’s hand on him is tripled by the silken wool, a glow that builds up and up, the steady slow burn of sensation edging over into pleasure.

“There we are,” Sean says, measuring Ben’s reaction. Sean’s mouth hangs slack for a moment, the point of his tongue tracing his upper lip before his expression turns towards a smile. His hands move in rhythm now, the softness of the scarf dragging back and forth along Ben’s chest in the same slow strokes of the fingers clasped loose around his dick. “I would very much love to fuck you.”

“Fuck,” Ben gasps, a hard exhale of breath and sound. “I want you to.”

“Do you care to clean up?” Sean asks, nudging Ben’s face to the side with his own. His breath fanning warm across Ben’s skin as he rubs his mouth near the hinge of Ben’s jaw. “One good meal deserves another,” he adds with a lewd lick that traces up around the edge of Ben’s ear.

Heat blossoms like a firework going off at the tips of Ben’s ears, and it only gets worse when he imagines that Sean can feel it with his lips. “I came prepared,” Ben admits. A few hours ago, he’d had no idea if what he was hoping would happen was even within the realm of possibility, but since he hasn’t been fucking men on the regular since college, taking a moment to clean out when he was getting ready to head over seemed prudent.

“Cheeky.”

At this rate, Ben might spontaneously combust. He turns his face towards Sean’s, not aiming for a kiss but simply enjoying the feel of Sean’s cheek sliding along his with a light, rasping scrape.

Slowly, Sean’s hands move to Ben’s sides, sliding down easily until the cashmere pulls taut, and then it’s his palms skidding across bare skin, a greedy sweeping touch that only pauses when his fingers are braced beneath the cut of Ben’s hips. With firm assurance, Sean guides him to turn around, and Ben resists just long enough to pull him in for another kiss, hasty and quick, this time with him catching Sean’s mouth, sucking hard on his soft bottom lip and scraping a bite there that gets a startled, pleased noise out of Sean.

Next thing, Ben’s got a real up close and personal view of the expert grouting on the bar top tile checkered beneath the spread of his fingers as he’s braces there, excitement making his muscles tense. He stretches out further, hands flat on the cool of the tile as Sean noses at the nape of his neck and muscles up against him, the brush of his clothes a startling reminder that Ben’s the only one who’s mostly naked here.

That sensation of nakedness amplifies as Sean nuzzles lower, mouthing kisses between the span of Ben’s shoulder blades, lips and nose dragging a ticklish path parallel to his spine until Sean is crouching on his heels and, oh--

Oh, his hands, strong and spreading Ben open, exposing him further, the surety of his handling forcing Ben to shift his balance, and that just sends the scarf swaying, a featherlight brush across his chest that is so intensely erotic that his dick jumps and twitches. Warm breath rushes across his skin, and Sean smears a kiss between the divots low on Ben’s spine, his thumbs digging in hard to pull Ben’s cheeks open enough that the spread stretches at his hole. Another gust of breath hits him, and then a lick that feels more like a static shock than what it is: a slow, wide drag of tongue that starts near the press of Sean’s thumb and leaves a wet stripe all the way to the clench of his hole.

“Wow,” Ben says in honest startlement. He hasn’t gotten eaten out in years, and he’d forgotten how good it feels to have a tongue circling soft and wet around his pucker, how different it is to get licked open than to simply get fingered. He tries to shift his legs wider, but his jeans are tangled around his knees, and Sean pauses to help strip him down until he’s standing there naked as the day he was born.

When Sean’s tongue is back in place, swiping over him and tasting him far more gently than he had when they’d been kissing, Ben groans and drops a hand off the bar top, reaching down to pull himself wider. He feels dirty in the best ways as he frees up Sean to tease his rim with more than just a light flick of tongue.

“More is it?” Sean remarks, a statement rather than a question. His finger dips into Ben, tugs at the inner muscle where Ben’s still clenched tight. He doesn’t stop tonguing Ben, instead alternating between the push of his finger and the point of his tongue. Sometimes just lapping in long, eager strokes that make Ben push back against him, trying to fuck against his face like it’ll satisfy. “So good,” Sean says, mouthing kisses near where Ben’s fingers dig into his asscheek. His finger slides in so easily now, no resistance at all until he curves it while buried inside Ben--until he tugs and makes Ben clench up around his knuckle. Sean does it more than once, and licks him loose again every single time, leaving Ben so fucking turned on that there’s precome hanging from the tip of his cock like drool.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he says breathlessly, half-laughing because he’s feeling a little high. “This is great, but I just need...” He trails off, because he’s so loose and ready to get fucked his body feels hungry for it, but at the same time, he wants to turn around and rub his dick against Sean’s lips, push it right in to his clever mouth and just fuck his smug face. “I need to come,” he admits.

“Nothing’s stopping you,” Sean points out. He stands up though, rubs his wet mouth against Ben’s bare shoulder and slides his hands up Ben’s thighs to frame his cock. He doesn’t move to touch it, and Ben’s heartbeat pounds in his chest, each leap and throb of his pulse echoed in his cock.

Sean’s hands slip away, brushing only briefly at the very base of Ben’s cock, traveling up the length of his torso instead. Again, Ben thinks of how Sean handles things he likes when they’re on display, picking them up, examining them from every angle, learning each curve and cut by feel. He shivers, another shaky laugh falling out of him as Sean gathers up the free-hanging scarf and tosses one end over Ben’s shoulder, the wool drawing snug against his throat.

“Just a bit of pressure,” Sean tells him, still caressing his body, “and if you don’t like it, you just say so, love.” Another kiss wets Ben’s shoulder, this time with a bit of teeth. The bite’s not hard enough to hurt, and the scarf, when Sean gathers the fabric in a fist that settles right at the nape of Ben’s neck, isn’t tight enough to actually cut off any of his air. The pressure though, warm and solid, is _good_ \-- Good in a way he never imagined he’d like, and he finds himself leaning forward to test how it feels.

He almost doesn’t hear the buttons popping as Sean loosens his fly, but he hears the distinct sound of a foil wrapper being bitten open, and then Sean’s spitting, slicking himself up. “Would you rather come first?” Sean asks, as he rubs his dick between Ben’s legs. The fist at the back of Ben’s neck feels as heavy as steel as he shakes his head no, each turn of his head making the scarf pull just a touch tighter.

“It’s getting tight,” he says, even though he likes it. He also knows if he gets into this any more, he might not be thinking straight enough to know it’s gotten _too_ tight. 

Immediately, Sean loosens the scarf, hooking his hand into the loop to make certain it doesn’t shift, and asks softly if that’s better. Ben nods, mumbles a quiet, “Yeah,” and shifts his weight. The scarf feels a lot like a collar now, and Ben tries to shove down the thought. He’s feeling vulnerable in a whole host of new ways, and even though there’s plenty of room at his neck, he struggles for his next breath.

“Too much?” Without waiting for an answer, Sean strips the scarf away, sets it in a bright red puddle on the counter, and he grips Ben’s shoulder reassuringly, his thumbs pressing in to tense muscle in a light massage. “There we go…. Breathe, mate. In and out….”

“I guess it was a little much,” Ben admits, but his neck feels oddly naked now and that pressure had felt so fucking good before he freaked out. Swallowing the sudden flood of spit that wets his mouth, he reaches up to find Sean’s hand, and before he can second-guess himself, he drags it to his throat. “Maybe just touch me here, okay?”

“All right.” Sean’s hand curves against Ben’s throat, not gripping, though his thumb nudges up under the softness beneath the point of Ben’s chin. “You lean in if you want more.”

“Yeah.”

There are fingers on his ass again, a slow caress that traces the top of his thigh before slipping into his crack and pressing into him, easing him loose once more. Ben leans forward into the cradling warmth of Sean’s hand on his throat, finding that this time it’s purely comforting, and he exhales through his mouth--a slow, measured breath that carries the faintest sigh with it.

“Feels good, don’t it,” Sean says thickly, practically purring. He’s spitting again, getting them both wet, and the nudge of his cock when it presses blunt against Ben’s hole seems far bigger than his fingers. Softer though, as that first push crushes and bends until Sean’s fingers guide it to the right angle.

It’s been a long time, but not so long that Ben doesn’t remember the drill, and his body relaxes enough that Sean’s inside him now, the ache quick to fade as Sean waits and doesn’t simply shove in as deep as he can. Ben fantasizes about it anyway, picturing each stroke carrying Sean all the way to the root instead of the reality of the slow rock of his hips that makes it sweet and perfect when Sean finally does pull back and fuck into him in one long, endless thrust.

“You mind if I go a bit harder?” Sean asks, his hand slipping away from Ben’s throat long enough to trace over his mouth. Ben chases the touch, grinning despite failing to get his lips around Sean’s fingertips. When Sean’s hand slots back over his throat, he stretches out his neck and revels at the feel: filled up and hanging waiting for more.

“Not at all.” Ben braces himself on his forearm and reaches back, glad now that Sean’s still clothed as it provides a convenient grip. “Give it to me,” he says, tugging urgently at Sean’s hip, denim crushed in his fist. “Give it to me, hard as you want.”

It’s as if Sean has simply been waiting for him to ask, because the snap of Sean’s hips is immediate, the sheer force of it driving Ben forward. The edge of the bar counter had grown body-warm, but a few inches beyond and it’s an ice-cold shock to Ben’s chest. He makes a startled noise, a sharp intake of breath that’s the perfect pitch to ricochet off the shiny stainless steel surfaces of the kitchen.

“Is that a good noise?” Sean’s buried deep, pressed so tight that when Ben grinds back against him, there’s nothing more to take.

Ben nods his head yes, keeps nodding, and then finally forces another gasped, “Yes!” that prompts Sean to ease back and fuck into him just as hard, to do it again and again until it stops being about the slick slide in and all about the way their bodies clap together. He’s pinned in place, the heat against his back as Sean ruts into him scorching his skin. The slam of Sean’s hips is shallow but brutal, and he slips his hand away from Ben’s throat only to lean back and spit before seeking more leverage, taking hold Ben’s hip in a punishing grip and hooking the other at Ben’s shoulder. It’s almost enough to make Ben’s teeth rattle, but it’s good. So fucking good.

“I’d like-- I’d like you to tell me how you want me to make you come,” Sean says, breathless and choppy, his open mouth wet against Ben’s back. “A hand on your cock? My mouth?”

Coming sounds fantastic, but trying to unscramble the sparks lighting up his nerves to figure out how he wants to make it there seems impossible. He’s getting fucked, and fucked hard, and-- “I dunno,” Ben rasps out. His head hangs so low his forehead bumps against the counter. “I don’t care.”

Like they’re out somewhere and he’s staring at a menu and waffling, Sean steps up to make the call. “I think if you want it hard to the end, you’d best use your own hand. But if you change your mind, you just say so.”

“Okay, sure. Yeah,” Ben says, tripping over his own tongue as he licks his hand wet and grips himself. He hardly has to move his hand, Sean’s holding on to his hips now like they’re handles, another fresh glob of spit keeping it slick as Sean slows down, goes from quick rutting to long thrusts that build up in speed and intensity until each one rocks Ben up onto his toes, makes him fuck into his own hand and gasp for breath.

Sean loses it first, but he’s quiet when he comes, and Ben only realizes what the shudder that had seized Sean had meant when he can feel Sean starting to soften up. Sean keeps going as long as possible, another few dozen thrusts until he’s sliding free, the filled condom smacking wet to Ben’s thigh as Sean is quick to cram a couple fingers in him to keep going. “Look at you,” Sean says, his free hand traveling down from Ben’s elbow to feel where his fist is tight on his cock, working now at the sole purpose of bringing himself off. Fingers twist inside of him, plunging into him hard and searching, matching the rhythm of his frantic jerking like this is another gift that Sean wants to give him. Fucking Sean, who does shit like have a custom scent crafted for the rooms in his art gallery. Who doesn’t need to be the biggest star in the room, but always wants to be remembered. Who probably didn’t just get Ben that stupid scarf because he’d been shopping for a new fling, but because Ben was complaining about almost missing sweating to death in a squad car in Southern California.

It’s all too much, the stir of emotion and the raw pleasure, and just when Ben feels like he’s going to split open, Sean’s murmuring encouragement into his skin between biting kisses. “Oh God,” Ben says, almost a shout as orgasm hits him. Sean’s hand on his tightens enough to really feel him wring it out, the first few shots going who knows where until the rest spills hot over his knuckles.

“Gorgeous,” Sean comments, peeling away. He keeps looking at Ben as he strips off the condom and crosses the kitchen to chuck it into the metal can near the butcher block.

After a moment, the rush of air on sweat-sticky skin makes Ben shiver, and he staggers sideways to slump against the nearest stool. He feels pleasantly used, body not bruised or aching, but he’s definitely going to feel this for a day or two.

“Cuppa?” Sean asks, though he’s already setting out two mugs and grabbing a couple bags of tea out of the stash.  
“Sure.” Ben gathers up his clothes and approximates getting dressed, feeling pretty certain that he _looks_ like he’s just been freshly fucked as he sits there with his fly undone and watches Sean turn on the kettle and tidy up a bit while it heats. He smiles, lazy and blissed out, the next time Sean’s gaze sweeps his way, and the smile stays on his face for a good long time. “This was good,” he says, when his hands are curling around the hot mug. He toys with the string of the teabag and watches Sean watching him. “Maybe we can do it again.”

“I’d like that.”

“You know, I was thinking, I could use a new pair of gloves,” Ben says offhandedly. Even though the idea of encouraging Sean to buy him things makes him feel ridiculous, the look it sparks in Sean’s eye is worth more than anything.

“Well then, I’ll see what I can do. How do you feel about lambskin? I’ll have to ask Jackie for the man’s name, but there’s this _fantastic_ craftsman she knows. He sews everything himself, top-quality work,” Sean says, and as he takes up the space on the other side of the counter, Ben smiles into his cup and thinks, _Yeah, worth it._


End file.
